


And We in Forests Malcontent

by sadrobotinahat, We_Have_Become_Anathema



Series: Battle Not with Monsters, Lest Ye Become a Monster [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Corpse Desecration, Disturbing Themes, Gore, M/M, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadrobotinahat/pseuds/sadrobotinahat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/We_Have_Become_Anathema/pseuds/We_Have_Become_Anathema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stag's noble manner made it seem like a king in this winter wasteland, watching over Will who was surely an interloper here, but the beast would never see him that way. To the stag, Will was something so precious, so important, that it didn't dare impose that Will could be its. Reaching down, it ate that burning heart out of his hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And We in Forests Malcontent

**Author's Note:**

> This amazing piece is a very lightly edited and rearranged RP between sadrobotinahat and myself. I do hope you enjoy this.
> 
> And in case there was any question to my lack of sanity /before/ this piece...

Will often woke with his palm resting over the raised pink line of scar tissue over his stomach, and that night his left hand had found its way to the spot less than an hour after falling asleep.  The movement pushed his shirt up, exposing the ridge of a hipbone and shadowed beginning of ribs, skin yellowing and almost sickly in the weak light.

Eyes darted back and forth underneath pale lids and the lenses of the glasses he'd forgotten to remove.

A forest.

Ice crusted snow cracking underfoot.

The smell of sap and blood and burnt sugar.

The stag appeared from the gloom between the skeletal birch trees, the sounds of its approach muffled by the blanket of snow coating the forest, looking vaguely blue in the moonlight. Its warm breath fogged in the air as it stared at Will, black, soulful eyes trained on him. Tossing its head with a huff, it walked closer, feathers twitching with the small wind shifts. When it was no more than an arm’s length from Will, it turned its head so one eye was pointed directly at him and its ears circled in search of danger.

Closing the gap between them after no danger presented itself, the stag butted its head against his hand, almost like a dog seeking attention.

Will saw his breath leave him in ghostly puffs and hang in the air, forming swaths and shapes that he instinctively knew he wouldn't want to see.  The anxiety dissipated quickly when the stag's head brushed his skin - nothing in the world had ever been so soft.  He dug his hand gently into the scruff behind the thing's giant ear, sighing in pleasure and releasing more clouds into the air as he did.

"Hello," he murmured, nuzzling, drugged with the touch.  His hands spread farther back, reaching the feathers.

Part of him knew that the shining plumage - how peculiar was plumage on a deer - was razor sharp, but he couldn't stop petting even as it shaved off the pads of his fingers over and over and over to reveal new fingerprints.

Glad for the affection after so long alone, the stag rubbed its great head against Will's chest, much like a horse might. Velvety muzzle coming up to brush against Will's face, while the soft nose sniffed at his neck. Resting its head over Will's shoulder, the great stag stayed there, seemingly enjoying the man's company. But as it is with all things, the moment was broken by a scream that hung in the still air for what seemed an eternity.

Moving around to stand between Will and the noise, the stag perked up, ears at attention and tail rising in preparation for fight or flight. Hooves emerging from the snow and the stag took off towards the sound, not going so fast as to lose Will.

Will was invisibly tethered to the loping creature, forced to follow even though he knew he would have gone willingly. His feet couldn't quite keep pace as his toes kept catching on patches of ice or roots sticking out of the snow as dark and wet as oil, but he stayed close enough.

The words, "I'm here, I'm coming, I'm here, I'm here," kept falling from his mouth as they crested a small hill.  He couldn't remember having decided to say them.  His hands were healing, he noticed, knobby now and covered in dark blue and grey scars. It reminded him of the stag in some morbid fashion.

As the stag crested the hill, it stopped and turned to watch Will's approach, ears still flicking in the direction of the valley beyond, to whatever scene of carnage had produced the unearthly scream earlier. Sniffing at the air, it snorted and shook its head; antlers making the action seem as if it was slow motion. When it heard Will's quiet words, it nodded as if it understood, as if it wasn't planning on leaving him either.

Will caught up, breath almost opaque now as it streamed from his mouth, and gripped a handful of fur at the back of the stag's neck.  "Slower, maybe?" he managed to gasp out, inhaling snow that smelled like dust.  Then he turned towards the valley.  There were still a few trees blocking the full view, but—     

Red.

Wet.

Pulsing and scabbed.

He turned back to the stag, buried his face in the feathers, praying they'd gouge out his eyes before he saw whatever smelled so good and so terrible at the same time.

The stag wrapped its neck around Will again; glad to be shielding Will from anything he was distressed by. However, after a few minutes, the stag stepped back and rubbed its head on his chest before turning and looking at the grotesque body. It sniffed at what looked to have once been a human, and then leaned in close to nuzzle at the warm flesh, steam escaping from the residual warmth of the viscera and fogging in the frigid air. When the stag raised its head, its muzzle was dyed crimson by the blood and it held a chunk of the man's liver in its mouth. Turning to offer it to Will, its eyes were bright as if it hoped Will would appreciate the gift.

Will's cheeks stung as if covered in paper cuts – he could feel blood freezing in scored lines across his face as each tiny wound was exposed to the frigid air.  The body below, it was gruesome, of course.  But it didn't make _sense_.  He couldn't hear a song, but a cacophony of voices when he listened to the scene.  He wondered, though he scolded his own insanity even as he thought it, if this were the work of many killers. Each with their own motive and technique and need, each assigned a part of this man's -woman's?- body.  Perhaps one had mutilated an arm, another left ritualistic burns over the ribs, and on and on - designs everywhere, none of them compatible.

His eye shifted as it caught the stag's movement.  The blood was impossibly bright as it dripped from dark muzzle to virgin snow, and in its mouth was meat that seemed to vibrate with residual life.  

A liver. 

Part of a liver, anyway.  In all his years of silent communication with dogs, he'd never seen a creature so clearly offer something as a gift.  The stag's whole body seemed to lean towards him, desperate to see him accept the... food.  He knew, somehow, that it was supposed to be food.  He reached out his now-deformed hand to take the liver even as he whispered, "I can't."

The stag made a low keen, imploring Will to understand, to share in the feast that was left for him, for them. Reaching forward, it pushed the meat into Will's hand and nudged it, trying to make him take it. There was no malicious intent in those alien eyes, so dark that they were practically drawing the light into them, only a sad sense of isolation and regret. The poor beast could see how it hurt Will, see the ways they weren't compatible, and yet it still wished to give him all that it could, to protect him and somehow heal the damage it did.

"I'm sorry," Will managed to choke out.  God, the meat smelled necrotic and sweet and he'd never been so hungry in his life.  Thick, clotted blood slid over his wrist, made him shiver as it crossed over the thin skin that covered his veins on the inner side.  It really was like watching a wounded dog on the side of the road, needy yet terrified, and so desperate for a connection it made him ache in sympathy.  And still, such intelligence in those void-black eyes.  If he could just turn the volume up a little more, he was sure he'd be able to hear it speaking to him. 

Begging him to take the meal into himself.

Before he could stop himself, he was licking the man's blood from his arm.  He still hadn't found the strength to touch the liver itself, but his forearm was soon clean and shiny with spit.  He groaned at the taste, and his own weakness.

Huffing, the stag pushed the liver back at Will's hand again, smearing the blood this time intentionally, biting down harder on the organ so that thick, warm blood flowed from it. Getting desperate, the stag reared, stomping its front hooves when it landed back down on all fours.

This time it bypassed Will’s hands and lifted the liver straight to Will's face, smearing more blood on Will, eyes begging now. If the stag had of been capable, it surely would have been crying from the stress and desperation it felt.

There was meat sliding over his lips, human meat – and it wouldn't be the first time, would it, Will? – and Will knew he should have tried to push the beast back but his arms wouldn't obey.  The blood had been viscous, almost syrupy in texture and taste.  Like nectar and wine and death.

His heart was spinning wildly through his chest now; in what he thought should have been fear instead of immense longing.  The shattering stamp of hooves almost knocked him over, a concentrated earthquake only felt by the two of them and the dismantled corpse at their feet, but he maintained his position.

When his mouth opened, Will wanted to blame it on the shaking ground and a surprised gasp.  He had no excuse; however, for the way his hands swung up to clutch at the ragged edges of flesh, to hold it to his mouth and let him bite.  Anger at the stag's possible manipulation of his pity.  Anticipation of more desperate animal violence.  Arousal at a taste that was somehow... intimate.

Will's knees buckled under him.

The stag let go of the liver when Will took it, moving its head back just enough so that it wasn't still breathing down the man's neck. But when Will fell to his knees, it surged forward, rushing around him, laying about him like a blanket, trying its best to push its razor sharp feathers under the fur and simply protect Will from the cold. Its large tongue came out and licked at the side of Will's face, hot breath warming him in the deadly cold of the forest. The beast had no way to communicate whatever it was it wanted to get across, but it was determined to try, to show Will that it was not going to leave him alone throughout all of this.

Perhaps the thing felt guilty for the time it had been absent from Will's mind, all the months when it had not haunted his steps and walked just beyond his sight. One thing was certain though; it was nearly manic to show Will how much it treasured him now, to share good and perfect gifts with him, to keep him safe and warm in the dangerous forest.

Will curled in on himself, the last slivers of meat sticking to his fingers and lips.  He sucked at them, shaking, as the stag's presence became reassuring rather than distressing.  Though every so often a bladed feather would open up a patch of skin as he shifted, there was a comforting warmth and gentle motion to be found in lying cradled on the stag's body.  He nodded, hopefully demonstrating his approval, and held up a still-bloody hand in offering.

If they couldn't speak, there had to be some way to show the creature that it had done well.  That it was welcomed back more completely than it had ever been before.  That they could share this.

There was a happier sound now, not quite as forlorn and eldritch as the earlier keening, and the stag leaned forward and began to lick at Will's hand, strong tongue expertly cleaning his skin of flesh and blood.

"You– " Words trailed off as the tongue's roughness swept over his hand, which was still oversensitive from the abuse it had endured from the stag's feathers.  Will watched, entranced, as nose and muzzle and tongue dipped to capture whatever areas of skin they hadn't yet reached.  His own mouth tingled, almost stung.  He wanted to shove his fist into it to quell the feeling, or perhaps eat something else.

Long after everything was cleaned away it was still licking, slower, more appreciatively. If it was not a dumb animal, someone would immediately describe the action as sexual, as it nipped at some of Will's fingers, grazing them slowly.

But certainly it couldn't be that.

Will stretched his arm out, making it clear that more than his hand was on offer.  It wasn't pleasure - not in the way he imagined most would mean the word -, but the touches buzzed through him like pleasure used to, when he had found it.  It was intimate.  That word again.  Eating that man's liver had been intimate too.

The stag let out a low whistle, long and unearthly, as it nuzzled against Will's chest and then turned and bit down on the flesh of the dead body, dragging it close enough so it wouldn't have to get up to pull the heart from the mangled chest. With the same care, almost loving, one might say, it held the heart to Will's lips, blood flowing hot from the freshly severed arteries.

Will grinned at his provider, though it felt a little as if his lips were being pulled into shape by wires he couldn't see, and bit again.  His eyes were trained on the stag as acidic, citrus-and-rot blood dripped down his chin.  Someone had obviously taken their time with this body, prepared it for devouring with spices and fruit rinds and careful thought.  He'd have to thank whoever it was.

The rest of the body lay like a banquet next to their makeshift bed.  Struck by gratitude, he pulled the last chamber of the heart away from his own mouth and held it out like birdseed in the palm of his hand.

The stag's noble manner made it seem like a king in this winter wasteland, watching over Will who was surely an interloper here, but the beast would never see him that way. To the stag, Will was something so precious, so important, that it didn't dare impose that Will could be its. Reaching down, it ate that burning heart out of his hand. With a low hum, it licked off Will's hand again, and then moved to lick at his face, tongue tracing the valleys and crests. When it had cleaned everything else, it licked experimentally at Will's lips, almost afraid that would somehow be too much to ask from the man.

Or as if it was not the one who should lay claim there.

A choked off noise, surprise and some form of acceptance, rumbled in Will's throat.  He parted his lips slightly, just enough to allow the bloody taste in his mouth to spread to the tongue before him, wide and curling and – God, his brain was screaming beneath the snow.  He couldn't hear it.

His sticky hand made clumps out of the sleek fur where he grabbed at it, reaching blindly with his free fingers to rip off another chunk of meat and feed it to his perfect, inhuman companion.  "Shh," he breathed out, burying his nose in the musk of fur and the metallic tinge of feathers.  "God..."  He shoved his fingers towards the stag's humid breath, now as giving and desperate himself as the other had been before.

The stag rumbled in response to Will's noise, something protective, possessive, and altogether pleased. It devoured the meat from Will's hand, ravenous and yet still perfectly careful not to let its teeth stray too near Will. The more that Will dissolved into the madness of the moment, the more the stag chased after him, eyes flashing maroon in the moonlight, looking like pools of blood crystalized.

 When it had finished the meat, it rubbed its neck along both sides of Will's face, scenting him, claiming him. There was no way the stag was going to let anyone or anything come between it and Will, not now, not after this. It had been waiting for so long for him to let it back in, for him to remember it without the fear of their first meeting, and it seemed that its patience had paid off.

Returning to Will's face, it lapped at his lips again, sharing the flavours of citrus rinds and copper tang and something dark like hickory. It nibbled at his lower lip, not quite as a human might, not quite sexually, but so close that the resemblance was startling.

Will's shock left him on a gasp, painting the stag's muzzle in white before the air again dissolved into transparency.  There was no way for him to reciprocate this instinct, no way to make this something more than animalistic nudging towards meaning.  With an apologetic whine, he pulled back, eyes closed to savor the mingling spices left on his mouth.  His head was full of blurred noise, grunts and inhalations and sliding scales, and there was barely any room for words.  He kept his hand firmly embedded in the thick fur behind the stag's ear, but his head was shaking, "No."

Not like this.

The stag pulled back its great head, staring at Will with questioning, unblinking eyes. Tilting its head to the side in an almost avian gesture, a gesture that felt oddly familiar, it studied Will, trying to understand where it had gone wrong. For a long while it gazed at Will, considering him, before it looked at its own form, moving to nip at its dark hide. Turning back to Will, it carefully nudged against his chest, making certain not to skewer him with its horns, and inhaled, causing the oddest sensation of tugging something from inside of Will.

A long, shivering silence followed Will's backward motion - something he knew would be seen as a rejection even though it wasn't, it wasn't, not really.  When he felt the push on his chest, Will opened his eyes and looked back at the beast surrounding him.   He was unable to speak, to explain himself when the entire landscape made no logical sense.  The corpse beside them had started to smell like fresh bread.

Then something was being uncoiled from behind his ribs, like a phantom set of intestines sliding out of his mouth and navel to feed something less carnal within the thing now moving away from him.  The extraction left him to fall back trembling onto the snow.

The air suddenly rippled with heat, fire seemingly burning just underneath the surface of the stag, and when it moved back once again, there were flames licking from its eyes. Standing, it shivered down the length of his body; starting from its head, moving down the shoulder, through the back, to the haunches and the tail. And then the flames consumed the dark beast, smoke writhing like a living thing in the arctic air, convection masking the beast in a makeshift tornado.

As the stag stood, shifting and burning, Will found himself transfixed.  Every instinct his muddled mind allowed told him to scramble away, to run, but all he could find within himself was the determination to stay.

When it all cleared, the stag was gone, and in its place was Hannibal, staring down at his fingers and moving them slowly as if he had never seen such peculiar appendages before. He was clothed in the same dark hues as the stag, feathers embroidered onto the button down shirt and a pair of antlers on the back. Sinking into the snow, he slowly reached for Will, the same tender, near hesitation that the stag had used.

Just as tenderly, protectively, possessively, he laid a hand on the back of Will's neck and asked with silent, soulful eyes.

_Can we now? Have I made it alright?_

And then, as always, as a part of Will seemed to know would happen, Hannibal was there.

Will stared as soot fell from the places where skin had replaced fur and feathers and blood.  There was still a little blood, there at the corner of his wide mouth, but Hannibal probably preferred it that way.  Will's mouth dropped open, and he clutched at a handful of snow that burnt his palm.

Hannibal was touching him.  Hannibal was kneeling over him, inches from a mangled pile of skin and offal.  Hannibal wasn't on the other side of a glass wall.  Will heard the wordless question, and answered with a twitch of his lips.

_I don't care if you make it alright._

_You can't._

_But yes.  Please, yes._

Hannibal pulled Will in, licking at his face when he was finally close enough. It was the same as the stag, hungry and tender and achingly lonely. When Will didn't pull away, didn't flinch or startle, Hannibal moved to Will's mouth, still simply lapping at his lips. Finally he pulled Will's lower lip between his teeth, and when he nibbled at it this time it was sensual and wanting.

He shifted his position, swinging one leg over so that he was kneeling with a leg on either side of Will, just high enough so he was over Will, mouth angled down to his. Then he properly kissed him, savage and halting all at once. The hand at the back of Will's neck helped to keep them together as Hannibal tilted his head to keep their noses from bumping together awkwardly.

The snow froze underneath them, but there was still a barely restrained fire under Hannibal's skin, and where he breathed on Will blistered, the ash from his lips tainting their kiss so it tasted of death and decay and decadence, and yet at the same time it felt as if he was promising an eternity of protection and something twisted just shy of love. The hand at Will's back snuck under the hem of his shirt and scorched the small of his back, the fingers leaving trails of flame that didn't cause pain as they should.

Each touch was a silence request, frenzied and frightened.

_I know I'm a monster, don't leave me. I don't want to let them take you. I know that this should scare you._

_Please, please, please don't leave me._

_I won't let you._

At first, Will was entirely still, immobile sacrifice laid out on white snow so Hannibal could take what he wanted.  What he needed.  _You need me,_ echoed revelatory in the now-clarified chambers of his mind _.  You need me and I want to let you._   If Hannibal had paused in his tasting of Will's skin to bite, Will wouldn't have made a single move towards stopping him.  When the bite came, light and yet somehow deep enough to cut through his whole body, Will fisted a hand in Hannibal's shirt and held on tighter.

Hannibal tasted like a forest fire and felt like a branding iron, and still Will was shivering.  He tugged, sliding his other hand into Hannibal's hair to pull the warmth down closer and melt them both into the snow.

He heard the sounds, the low vibrating moans, long before he realized he was making them.  Fingertips on his back had him arching mindlessly against the body above him, seeking out Hannibal's skin as the only safety in the universe – and the only source of release.  He kept trying to shake his head without dislodging Hannibal from his mouth, trying to stop those pained pleas from leaking into the space between them.  There was something barbed and sweet building in his chest, and it felt like it would make him whole when it pierced him.

_No, you're mine, if you're a monster than you're still the monster who stays._

_Stay with me. God, anything you want, just stay with me._

_Keep me when I run away._

He was sucking on Hannibal's tongue when he woke up, and it took him a full ten seconds to remember what had happened before keeling over and promptly vomiting onto the hardwood floor.


End file.
